Apocalypse: 2.9 Burnout

Burnout 2.9

Pierce Townsend
September 2015

I had no idea where I was anymore. I haven't since yesterday. Every space between every tree looked the goddamn same, like it could be the start of a trail back to town. I could’ve sworn I’d bent the branches of a thousand shrubs to get an idea of where I’d been, but could never find those shrubs again.

I wasn’t a woodsman; that was Dennis and Jose’s thing. I knew the basics, like everyone else did, but those basics basically boiled down to “Reflective tape is your friend,” and “Moss doesn’t only grow on the north face.” It was why I’d packed a compass… and a map… in the backpack I no longer had…

The panic I’d felt had faded away in the morning light. Now, I was cold, hungry, and exhausted. I kept walking, not because I knew where I was going, but because I didn’t have anything better to do. If I stopped now, I felt like I’d lose all motivation to keep going.

“Okay, Pierce, you can do this,” I muttered encouragements to myself. “You’re the smart one. You can figure it out.”

Carnelian Bay was on the shore of Lake Tahoe. Lake Tahoe was in the Sierra Nevada mountain range. The Sierra Nevada was made up of mostly metamorphosed volcanic rock…

I paused long enough to headbutt a tree trunk. I needed to reset. Figured that I’d remember useless geology facts now of all times.

“Lakes. Lakes are dimples in the earth that happen to be filled with water. That means they’re the lowest local elevation. I just… I just need to keep going downhill.”

On the plus side, that was what I’d already been doing. On the downside, I could just be going down into a small ravine. The trees were so large and the brush so dense that I couldn’t get a clear view of my surroundings.

I considered climbing, but took one look at a tree and shuddered. The thought of what might be in any random tree made me think twice. I’d never been good at pull-ups anyway.

I eventually came upon a fallen tree. Seeing it made me want to collapse too, so I did. I took a seat on the trunk and caught my breath. Judging by the sun, it was past noon… maybe… My shadow was slanted, but I had no idea if that meant it was before or after midday.

I put that aside and dug into my pocket. I’d found a bush of red currants and stuffed my pockets because I was pretty sure that would be the only meal I’d find today.

Or, I thought they were red currants. They had the vibrant, red shine and were about as large as bubble tea pearls. I didn’t know of any other berry they could be, but that wasn’t saying much. If these weren’t edible, it was too late, anyhow; I’d been grazing on these all morning.

I rested for about fifteen minutes. As I was about to stand, I heard growling in the underbrush. A single poochyena came out into the clearing. Even though I watched it emerge, it blended so perfectly with the shadows that I doubted I’d ever be able to pick one out of the underbrush.

It was small, no bigger than a terrier. But then again, so were the two the rangers took in. I remembered hearing from Sabrina that poochyena had a ridiculously strong bite force for their size.

I gripped a nearby branch hard enough that my knuckles turned white. The short hunting bow I’d used was long gone, not that I was ever a crackshot. So was the backup slingshot in my backpack. I had… I had a knife! It was small, only a two and a half inch survival knife, but I didn’t keep it in my backpack so I still had it.

I pulled it out, then carefully flipped open the blade one-handed. Just that was about as much as I could expect from my coordination. I let out a broken laugh. Dennis made a big show of being able to flick his in and out “like a badass.” Fucking idiot. We were all a bunch of fucking idiots.

Now that I was facing down a pokemon though, I realized how little good a tiny thing like this would do. It was good for making myself fish skewers and pine resin torches, not so much against super-fauna. I held it anyway in my left hand and used the stick to keep the poochyena at a distance.

“B-Back!” I shouted. I waved the stick around, anything to make me look bigger. It worked for bears, right?

It didn’t work. Poochyena weren’t bears; it was in the name. And if they were like hyenas, then…

My eyes darted to my sides. 

Sure enough, there was one more. It’d been crawling on its belly towards me, getting ready to take me from the side while I was distracted. Seeing that it’d been made, it let out a high-pitched yip that might have sounded cute any other time and jumped for my throat.

I panicked. I swung my stick at it and lucked out. My desperate backhand caught it in the ribs, sending the pokemon flying with a surprised yelp. Even if it was supernaturally tough and strong, it still only weighed eight pounds or so.

Then, the one in front of me rushed in and I tried to jab at it like my stick was a sword. Rather than be intimidated, it opened its mouth and bit down on the stick. I heard the wood, about as thick as my wrist, groan and crack under the pressure. Even as a puppy, its jaws were stupid-strong.

We engaged in a little tug of war with my life as the price. Then, the second one came back. Being launched like a football hadn’t actually hurt it. It saw that my stick was occupied and came in from the right again.

I let out a yelp of surprise and stumbled back. The stick fell away and I felt my heart climb to my throat. The knife. I still had the knife. I tried to stab it as it jumped for me, but I barely managed to scrape off some of its fur. My shitty survival knife wasn’t sharp enough to do more than nick it.

Still, that stumble saved my life. Its jaws missed my neck by inches. I could’ve sworn I’d felt its breath tickle my jugular.

I broke. I caught myself just in time to keep myself from falling to the floor, but turned and ran. There was no way in hell I could take two poochyena by myself. It all sounded so easy when we were drunk and shooting the shit. They were so cute; how much damage could they possibly do?

Behind me, I heard them bark and snarl. I’d never look at puppies tugging at a hemp rope the same way again. I broke through the underbrush, cutting my shirt on a pointy branch.

I barely registered the pain. The world disappeared. There was me, the path immediately in front of me, and the barking of wild dogs behind me. What energy I’d recovered from last night was expended almost immediately. Only panic and the desperate need to survive pushed me forward.

I didn’t know how long I kept running. I’d never been the most athletic but this was easily the fastest I’d ever run, the furthest, too. My legs and lungs burned and I could taste blood with each exhale. The only reason I’d yet to be caught was…

Was…

It hit like a bolt of lightning.

I laughed. I laughed with the little breath I had left in my lungs. It was a desperate, hysterical laugh, the kind of laugh reserved for someone who saw Cthulhu and knew that their life was a cosmic joke.

Even as tired as I was, a small, cynical part of my mind whispered the truth. I wasn’t fast and I was already slowing. I sure as shit wasn’t faster than a pokemon. There was only one reason I’d yet to be caught and ripped apart: They were toying with me.

Was it because they were dark types? There was a joke going around that “dark” was actually translated from “evil” in Japanese. Maybe they were all genetically primed to be bastards because of it.

Either way, Shane said they were smart. It was only now that I realized that if they were smart enough to take orders, they were also smart enough to play with their food.

That was my saving grace. Maybe, if I ran long enough, I could buy enough time. The rangers were probably looking for us by now. Rocket could find anything so long as there was a scent. I needed… I needed to keep running.

Except, that was proving to be impossible. I felt like I'd been running for hours. In reality, I'd probably managed ten minutes, if that.

And then, I saw it: hope.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a flash of gold. It shimmered brilliantly before shifting to shades of green. It was too perfect, too consistent to be natural. I ran towards it. It was a longshot, but maybe there was a person involved. 

As I got closer, the foliage cleared away, revealing a golden wheel. I recognized it, of course. Even if Pokemon hadn’t been a favorite of mine, the rangers made damn sure we all knew what to look for: Arceus’ golden hoops. They showed up as doorframes to dungeon gates. They pulsed with light, the color hinting at the type of pokemon inside.

The literal hounds were closing in. I couldn’t run any further. Entering the dungeon was usually suicide, but… but it wasn’t like I had any other options. Better a one percent chance of survival than guaranteed death, right?

I lifted up a desperate prayer. To Arceus. To Christ. I didn’t know. With a wordless shout, I launched myself in a flying tackle, clearing the dungeon just as the poochyena realized what I was doing.

X

Shane Hayes

Tracking Pierce took most of the morning. It wasn’t that it was difficult, but that the fool boy had managed to wander every which way in his blind panic. It would’ve been nice had he just sat still, but no. That would have been asking for too much apparently.

I sighed. Maybe it wasn’t his fault. Maybe something forced him to move like this. Either way, I chose to take the lengthening trail as a good sign. It at least meant that he was still alive.

Near three in the afternoon, Rocket stopped. The location made me want to tear my hair out. I knew exactly where we were because the rangers had a map of the Lake Tahoe region in our office and this location in particular was marked.

Rubicon Trailhead. Well, this was a few miles northwest of that, but we were pretty close to the lake itself. Here, the dungeon’s gate shimmered in pulsing waves of gold and emerald. The colors reminded me of golden wheat, verdant leaves, and maybe that dappled shade lawns had after being freshly mowed.

“Was it a mistake, guys?” I groaned out. “Should we have told the townsfolk where the gates were?”

“Woop. Wooper-woop,” Sir Swagsire croaked from his backpack pocket.

“Yeah, you’re right. He stumbled on this dungeon. And, like a fucking idiot, went right on in. Him knowing where it was beforehand wouldn’t have helped him any.”

“Lin,” Rocket chuffed. He nudged my hand and shook his head. “Oone. Linoone.”

“No? He was… chased? Are you sure?”

“Oone.”

“Yeah, I trust your nose. By what?”

“Lin. Lin-oone.”

“The pups we have at home… Poochyena? Oh, wow… Kid’s got some seriously shitty luck.”

“Lin.”

I studied the gate again. In our notes, I remembered that this was marked as a potential grass or bug type dungeon. I didn’t know what the mission would be, but I was loath to enter. Both options sounded like hell on earth.

Then again… I looked to Scout and Sir Swagsire. Bug type attacks were resisted by both flying and poison types. Not to mention, Scout had an offensive advantage against both bug and grass types, with Sir Swagsire having said advantage against grass types only. That was… quite good, actually. Rocket helped me clear the Stampede Reservoir Dungeon with no innate type advantage.

But I’d already learned that type matchups weren’t everything. Even if they worked just like in the games, simple reality ensured there were countless other variables that went into a combat scenario. Either bug or grass type sounded like the perfect thing for guerilla warfare through the forest, and an ambush only had to succeed once.

The dungeon’s clear condition wouldn’t necessarily involve combat, but by the same token, even a seemingly easy mission could quickly turn into a fight for my life. “Walk around the reservoir,” had turned into “What if a vampire bat fucked a scorpion?” way too fast.

No, I really didn’t want to go in. Dungeons were chaotic, dangerous, and… and I was the only one who could. I could walk away now, tell the town that there was nothing else I could do, but it’d mean giving the kid up for dead. It’d mean telling his mother that I didn’t even try.

“Let’s put it to a vote,” I said slowly. “That Pierce kid is definitely inside, right, Rocket?”

“Lin,” he nodded. The scent trail ended here. Either he went inside, or something teleported him elsewhere.

“Then we have two choices: One, we go in after him. We’ll just have to hope the clear condition is something we can achieve with the supplies we’ve got. Or two, we leave. We go back and let the town put this to a vote.”

Scout landed on my shoulder. He let out a soft trill of concern. “Tran… Tranquill.”

“What will the town do? They’ll either prepare a party or abandon Pierce. I think they’d probably choose the latter, especially since going there and back will take at least another day and I’ll need a day to rest anyway. Pierce… realistically wouldn’t survive that long in a dungeon.”

“Tran. Quill. Tranquill.”

“That’s right. Going back is basically the same as leaving him to die even if we come back.”

“Tranquill.”

“I thought you’d say that,” I smiled ruefully.

Scout was originally Tom’s partner. Much like my late predecessor, he felt responsible for those in town, even if they weren’t part of the rangers. He wanted to go in, both because he didn’t fear grass or bug types, and because that was what Tom would have done.

Tom was the same man who tried to at least recover the bodies back at the hospital. He would have wanted to verify Pierce’s status.

I looked to my other two pokemon. “And what about you two?”

“Linoone,” Rocket shrugged. He truly didn’t care. His loyalty was to me, not to the town. I got the sense that he didn’t think we were entirely out of our depth, and I couldn’t say he was wrong.

Sir Swagsire looked at the portal, then at me. His whole body tensed, revealing small spines that I knew were almost like hypodermic needles. A deep, violet sheen beaded along each tip. “Wooper-woop. Wooper? Wooper.”

“You want to go in. I guess that’s two in favor, one abstaining,” I sighed. I should’ve known. Swagsire liked kids, even if he wasn’t allowed to touch them. “Well, you’ve been practicing Toxic for a while now. That ought to be good for something.”

“Woop.”

“Then so be it.”

Scout is pleased with your sense of responsibility. Your Bond Level has increased by 2.

Sir Swagsire is eager to prove his gentlemanly nature by rescuing a lost child. Your Bond Level has increased by 1.

I let out a soft chuckle. Rocket didn’t care so it figured that I wouldn’t gain any Bond Levels. I still had no idea what these things did, but I assumed they’d be useful at some point.

Putting the game-like elements of the RKS System out of mind, I reached out to the gate. “Let’s go, everyone.”

X

I was expecting a continuation of the Sierra Nevada forest. That seemed reasonable, a grass or bug type dungeon would likely look much like the forest I was familiar with, except with more pokemon. At most, I expected the dungeon to transform itself into a rainforest, the biome with the most biodiversity in nature.

Nope. As per usual, I was wrong.

When the light faded and my vision cleared, I found myself standing before an ornate fountain. It was made of pristine, white marble and towered over me, easily as tall as a house. Pure water sprayed down from the central statue in a refreshing cascade that cast rainbows upon the air.

The statue was of three pokemon I could not identify. Two were massive horses. They knelt to either side of the central pokemon, as though they were waiting upon their master. At first, I thought they were rapidash, but neither had the unicorn’s horn. Besides, it wouldn’t have made much sense to depict a fire type in a grass dungeon.

The central figure was seated upon a throne so that its head was above those of its steeds. It looked a little like a bipedal goat with four horns. Around its neck was a necklace of flower buds, though the whole thing was made of white marble so I couldn’t identify them. Its four horns were wound over a large ball that I belatedly realized was an enlarged flower bud found on its necklace.

At the foot of the throne, just shy of the water’s edge, was a bowl. Unlike the rest of the fountain, this bowl was made of aged metal. It was set into a divot, but clearly meant to be picked up, at once a part of the statue and not.

I had no idea what I was looking at. It was… The figure upon the throne was a Legend, that much was clear, but I’d never seen anything like it before. As far as I knew, there were only three grass type legendary pokemon: Celebi, Shaymin, and the recently introduced Virizion. This figure, this king, was most certainly none of those.

Then again, the figure did look like a goat. Or maybe a deer. Whatever it was, I wondered if it was at all related to Virizion.

Virizion was a Sword of Justice. It, alongside Cobalion, Terrakion, and Keldeo, were the pokemon world’s analog of the Three Musketeers and D’Artagnan. If that parallel still held true, then could there be their king?

Next to me, I saw Rocket bow. He didn’t exactly have much clearance off the ground anyway, but I’d known him long enough to recognize the reverence in his action. Similarly, Swagsire hopped down from my back and did the same as Scout settled upon the ground.

I stood awkwardly for a moment, but quickly took a knee myself. I hadn’t gotten this far by being a fool. If my pokemon felt the need to pay respects, then odds were good that I should do the same.

Almost as if in answer, the RKS System came alive. 

Welcome to the Rubicon Trail Dungeon, Trainer Hayes.

You have entered the domain of the King of Bountiful Harvests. Give unto the king his royal tribute, and receive from him the blessings of the earth.

I took a deep breath. That at least confirmed that this was a grass and not a bug dungeon. “Harvest” could mean nothing else.

I looked around. The garden upon which the fountain sat was a central square of some sort. All around was a hedge maze, its walls as tall as a house. Somehow, I had a feeling that finding the right “tribute” wouldn’t be easy.

A part of me wanted to offer some of the canned food I had. It was tribute, right? But no, I’d learned my lesson from the Stampede Reservoir Dungeon. Trying to cheat my way wasn’t the answer.

I snapped a quick photo of the fountain. I didn’t know what a tribute was in this case, but there was probably a hint built into the fountain’s structure.

“Well, we have two missions,” I said. “Find Pierce, and find something to offer. Rocket, can you pick up Pierce’s trail?”

“Lin,” he growled softly. He sniffed the air, then nodded.

“Good. Let’s get to it…”

Author’s Note

Some of you saw this coming. Pierce lucked his way into the grass type dungeon. Or, was it luck at all? Could something be calling him? What lesson is the Alpaca Almighty trying to teach him?

Remember, Shane is fully aware of anything up to gen V, and has limited awareness of anything beyond that. We know that this is Calyrex, the Pokemon equivalent of King Arthur, but he doesn’t.

Animal Fact: Everyone talks about the biggest, strongest, fastest, or cutest animal, but do you know what the loudest is?

It’s the unfortunately named sperm whale. It is the largest toothed whale, and also the loudest creature alive. Its call can reach 230 decibels. That’s even louder than a blue whale’s 188 decibels.

That’s so fucking loud that a sperm whale’s call can penetrate through the body of their prey (squid), to “see” its beak and gladius. That’s so loud that if you stood next to one, a sperm whale could quite literally vibrate you to death.

Yes, the last part is true. The human eardrum is not meant to withstand sounds above 150 decibels, which is comparable to a jet engine mid-takeoff. Anything above 180 could cause tissue damage. Being next to a sperm whale really can seriously injure or kill you, especially as you’d be underwater.